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Today the storm has swelled. I am overwhelmed with the very thought of taking care of my family, my husband in particular. With tears in my eyes, I’ve watched him struggle all day. The dementia washes over him deeply today and he doesn’t understand what’s going on. It’s like he’s adrift at sea, tossed by the thoughts that have no rhyme or reason. Where will he land? Will tomorrow see the storm calmed? I can see him drowning and there’s no life preserver in sight. I’m losing him and there’s nothing I can do.

He asked when middle son had to leave for prom. Middle son is homeschooled. There is no prom. He is so lost and I don’t know what I can do to help him. He asks when eldest is getting home as he takes the 2 hour old dinner from the microwave and starts to toss it in the trash because he thinks it’s left over from last night. Eldest is in her room, talking to middle and hasn’t left the house all day. It’s 8 P.M. He thinks it’s morning. He doesn’t realise it’s the youngest child’s dinner, keeping warm till he awakens from his slumber.

I try to get him to go back to the bed he’s lain in all day. He argues and fusses that he’s not tired. He stumbles from the kitchen as I make him scrambled eggs and hash browns with a bit of bacon chopped up in it. I give him his plate and he spills half on the floor. He tries to clean it up but the dogs beat him to it. They have grown accustomed to cleaning up after him I think.

I wonder, briefly, if he’s had a stroke as I watch him eat. He chokes, momentarily, on the food and my breath catches. Will I have to put him in the hospital again with aspiration pneumonia or should I just let him go? I have to walk away, feigning a bathroom break, so I can allow the tears to stream freely down my cheeks for a few minutes. Waves of grief wash over me as I’m tossed about, emotionally, like driftwood in a hurricane.

I’m adrift on the sea of emotion. Alone in my torment. I have noone to talk to. The one person I had to talk to is adrift in a different part of the storm. Lost to me. Drowning.

The relationship between myself and my children is truly symbiotic in nature. We give and take from eachother in ways that only we know. My children and I are close enough that we can finish eachothers sentences, we know what eachother are thinking much of the time and we pretty much like the same things. We feed off each others quirky natures and seem to understand the way the other is feeling, even when we aren’t physically together.

Take, for instance, last year. I was in Texas with my father, helping him and his wife while they went through cancer surgery and chemo treatments. I was, at the time, 1500 miles away from my eldest and youngest children. They had stayed in Colorado with my husband.

One particular morning, I woke up early.I was feeling overwhelmingly sad and couldn’t understand why. I sat down in the dark of the morning and closed my eyes, looking with my inner eyes. I “saw” my apartment and looked in on my sleeping husband, seeing my dog laying on my pillow. I “saw” my youngest, playing on his computer as he was apt to do in the wee hours. Then I “saw” my daughter, curled fetal on her bed, sobbing. She was so unbelievably sad about something and I mentally caressed her arm and she slowly stopped crying. Then she started softly snoring.

About three hours later, I called to talk to her. She was surprised that I called and when I asked her why she had been crying that morning, She told me the reason. Then she asked me if I’d rubbed her arm because she’d felt me. She said I was freaky because I could do that and I laughed, asking her how she thought I knew she needed me. She hadn’t realised that our connection was that strong, that she could THINK about me and I’d “hear” her need.

The connection between the people in my family has always been that way. When my mother was in Colorado and I was in North Carolina, she knew something was wrong the night I almost died. When my husband passed away, she knew before I even picked up the phone.

I remember, as a child, being outside playing and “hearing” my mother call my name. When I’d come inside, I’d ask “Mom, did you call me?” and her answer would be “No, but I was thinking about it. It’s time for dinner” It was always that way.

When I’m asked what I get from my children, I have to smile. They give me so much that it would take a lifetime to tell everything. When I’m sad, they bring me joy that makes me want to live. When I’m angry they are my calming voice. They bring an odd sense of humor to an otherwise grim world. Each brings their own personality and, somehow, they know what is needed and when it’s needed. They each, in one way or another, have saved me from myself. I gave them life…. and they have given me life as well.

I have struggled with my oral health for over 20 years. Tooth decay, broken teeth after being tortured and raped for three weeks, bad eating habits and NO dental intervention as a child.

In June, I was accepted into a program which finds dental professionals who are willing to work with disabled people by making dentures and doing dental work for free. In November I had dentures made.

The day before Christmas I was told that they had found an oral surgeon who was willing and able to do the work. On my birthday I called them and set up my appointment. Last week was the initial consult and today…. This is the day!

I’m excitedly terrified. Excited because I’ve waited so long for this day and it’s finally here. The day that I no longer have constant pain. The day that my sinus pain from my teeth stops. This is the first day of my life!!

I know, I’m being overly dramatic but, if you had to live with constant pain, throbbing, infections and the inability to eat, you’d understand. It’s been hell.

This is the perfect example of the problem with healthcare in this country, especially for disabled and elderly poor. We are given Medicaid by the state but not all Medicaid covers dental for adults. Most don’t in fact. Glasses are another issue. Some states cover them, some don’t.

Poor people in America are told “Go to the dentist” but when the dental care you NEED is going to cost you the same as your food budget for a month (or in my case 5!!) then you make sacrifices. Usually to the tune of poor health.

When you can’t chew, you can’t eat properly. We are told, especially when we are fat “eat healthier. Eat fresh veggies and fruit” Um, HELLO, I have no usable teeth! YOU try eating kale without teeth. Or an apple, pear, carrot…. Yeah right. I’ve had to juice my food for three years. I can eat solid food, IF it’s soft, like sandwiches and eggs. I’ve had to be creative with my eating AND my childrens diets. It hasn’t been easy.

Today, that all ends.

I know I’ll be sore for a while and the dentures will take some time to get used to but you know what? I’m ecstatic that it’s going to be done!

Eldest is schizophrenic and has decided that she no longer needs to eat. Husband has been onto her about her weight and she has decided to starve herself. This started about 3 weeks ago. I found out three days ago. Two weeks ago, she stopped all her meds. This I also found out three days ago. She said they were making her throw up.

Well duh!

Now I’ll tell you how I found all this out.

Monday, daughter went to her therapy, supposedly. I say supposedly because we got a call about her missing her appointment. When confronted with this tidbit, she said that she had gotten there late because she missed the bus and that, when she got there, they had her reschedule.

She then goes on to say that it didn’t matter anyway because they were about to drop her because she has missed too many appointments.

Tuesday she had another appointment with her therapist and I made sure she left the house with buds pass, money, wallet and whatever else she needed. Tuesday afternoon she was home and was acting erratically. We called her therapist, then the crisis line. Got things calmed down and went to bed.

Wednesday, I went to work. At 11am I was called by husband who informed me that Adult Protective services was here. Talking to daughter about last week when husband had to put her in a restraint hold because she was throwing things and generally being violent. They were gone by the time I got home at 1:30.

At 2:15, three police officers were at my door. They questioned daughter, husband and youngest then left. They didn’t talk to me or middle.

At 4:00, youngest came to my room with severe stomach pain and was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. Nothing physically evident but when I told the doctor about the things that had happened, he said it COULD have been psychosomatic in nature.

Yesterday was pretty intense.. Not a lot of drama but eldest and husband were “discussing” things and daughter was loud and borderline belligerent.

Its almost 6am now and I’m going to the food bank to work till 1. God PLEASE let today be calm. I’d like to get through one day without crying.

I’m teetering on the brink of insanity myself. Every day this week, I’ve fought the tears. Yesterday I broke down in tears in front of my boss for the first time in my time there. Two years. She said “my God, how do you do it? You come in every day and are always full of smiles. I’d be a basket case!” I laughed and said ” You see me as I want to be seen but behind the mask is a really fucked up person.” She hugged me and said “You aren’t fucked up. Your one of the strongest women I know.”

Yeah, today I’m thinking about my husband again. As always. I’ve been really paying attention to his actions of late and what I see disturbs me more than words can say.

Since I’ve been home from the hospital, I’ve been watching my husband, his interactions with the children and his words. What I don’t see, youngest informs me.

I went back to work last week and the very first day, upon my return home, youngest said that husband has informed them that he no longer cares about them because they “obviously” don’t care about him. This because he “had” to do their chores.

What kind of person says things like that to children? It made youngest cry. I’m seriously wishing I knew what to do. I’m afraid to leave because he has all the money in his bank account. He’s stopped giving me my allowance. I think he suspects I’m trying to save money to leave… If I don’t get enough money, how will I leave??

We found out that my father does, indeed, have colon cancer but it’s in the “early stages” and the doctor thinks he can get it all in one surgery. Keep your fingers crossed. I will be taking middle with me when I go down to take care of him and his wife who starts chemo tomorrow. Don’t know when I’m leaving but it will probably be in the next couple of weeks. If I can get a ride, I’ll take youngest with me. If I have to take the Greyhound, I’ll have to leave youngest here.

Middle had an endoscopy last week and we have found out he has scar tissue and ulcerations on his esophagus. He’s now on medication and will be having another endoscopy in 8 weeks. That should give us time to go to Texas and help grampa before his appointment.

I have to remember, if I leave, I don’t come back. I take the kids with me and we continue without husband. My children deserve better.

I’ve spent the last two weeks in the hospital. Agony would be an understatement! Turns out I had a 7mm kidney stone that got lodged in the ureter between the kidney and the bladder. It was EXCRUCIATING. They placed a stent and for two weeks I hurt. My bladder and kidney were spasming so bad that they put me in the hospital to control the pain.

For two weeks my husband was alone with my children.

They all survived. Much to the amazement of my beloved husband.

While I was in the hospital, my husband totalled the motorcycle, my only transportation to work. Now I can’t go to work unless a coworker comes to get me.

Discovered my step mother has colon cancer while I was in the hospital. That prompted my father to get a colonoscopy…. They found a mass. Waiting on the results now, supposed to know something Monday. If you pray, please pray for them.

I’ve been so emotional, bitchy, weepy… My emotions are ALL over the place!

For instance, tonight. Husband is making something new for dinner and I’m organizing my jewelry making things. He is making filled quesadillas, filled with something that resembles vomit. I’m instantly annoyed. I’m a HUGE visual person when it comes to food. If it looks funny/weird/different/gross, I’m bothered. This looked down right NASTY.

I start grumping about it being soggy and gross. Then he serves me one that he’d made 10 minutes before. It’s got the consistency of road kill. Que meltdown. I’m sobbing and bitching at the same time. I threw the food…. Dogs had dinner. Next I’m laying in the bed sobbing gutwrenchingly. Youngest comes in and asks me why I’m crying so hard and I honestly can’t say why.